Page 134 of The Only Way Out Is Up

“This will be the last match of the Ascent,” Alzimyth calls out. Without his sound construct, his voice sounds reedy and thin. “Taj Fara and Star against my champion. If Taj wins, all the honors and privileges of the victor are his. If he loses, Star is forfeit.”

“Yes, yes,” Devon Dreikin complains, hugging himself against the chilly air. “So why do you need us?”

“Witnesses,” Alzimyth says with a smile. “To make certain everything is done properly.”

“I, um, once again note this is far outside the traditional rules,” Hisham says. “I am, um, very unsure what is proper—”

“The boy agreed!” Alzimyth says, and glances toward Somi and Spike. “Didn’t you?”

I pull away from Ky and walk over to the knight. He stares down at me with a mix of irritation and haughty indifference, as though now that we’re here he couldn’t care less about the outcome. I feel my fists clench.

“Why?” I ask him, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “Just because I turned you down? Is your pride that fragile?”

“You think this is about pride?” He scoffs. “You didn’t listen to what I told you, boy. The creations of sigilists are dangerous. That runic of yours could do untold damage one day. As a Hesed Knight, my duty is to defend the Tree and all who dwell on it by whatever means necessary.”

He puts on a cold smile. I get the strong impression that pride has a lot to do with it after all.

“If I win?”

He rolls his eyes. “Then you may do as you like, of course.”

“And either way, my family goes free.”

“I said I would show mercy. You have my word.”

“Fine.” I raise my voice again. “Now what?”

“Step into the circle. When I activate it, it will project a barrier protecting everyone on the outside.”

“What about your champion?”

“It is already within.”

It. Not a runic and its master. I eye the metal box suspiciously. “That?”

Alzimyth shrugs.

Let’s go, I send to Star. Keep your optics on the box. I’ll watch your back.

[Analysis: our opponent cannot be large, then.]

True enough—Star would fit in that crate, but not Bitey or Vripiai. The runic in there—if it is a runic—can’t be on a completely different scale.

Star and I step over the chain together. Once we’re past there’s a gentle hum, and blue light stretches upward from the sigils to form a shimmering translucent wall separating us from the spectators. I have no idea what combination of sigils can produce that effect, and I fight the urge to bend down and examine the chain more closely.

“Other runics are not the only challenges a champion of the Ascent must face,” Alzimyth says. “Some would say they are the least important. There are monsters in the world about which you children know nothing.”

Sigils flare on the box, then shatter in sprays of sparks. It starts to shake, metal-scraping-metal sounds coming from within.

“This one is fresh caught, half the world away,” Alzimyth says, clearly enjoying his dramatic moment. “We call them… Twisted.”

I start laughing.

I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. It’s too much, the buildup, Alzimyth’s self-satisfied drama, all to tell me something that any child of the Heap learns before they’re three years old—there are monsters in the junkheap. However ignorant I am of his world, Alzimyth knows equally little about mine. Outside the barrier, Ky is grinning to herself, and the Council members are looking at one another in confusion. Even these Hod grandees have at least heard rumors of the Twisted below.

[Query: what is so funny?]

Just… I shake my head. We come all this way, all the way to the surface, and the last fight is just another bug hunt.